Under the knife

Poor little kitlets. Tomorrow they go under the knife. I am oddly stressing kind of big-time over it. Marita did not help today when she "voiced" my fears (via email) - something along the lines of "won't you feel bad, leaving them alone, with strangers?" Um, yeah! I kind of under-shot their birthday I think, or they are just early-bloomers - they are both in heat (Seca for sure anyway) so they have been driving me just a wee bit crazy this last week or so. And they are tearing the apartment apart. Just going batshit. I don't expect them to come back from the vet all fat and lazy, but I am hoping for just a LITTLE bit of calmness. Just take it down a little notch. Or twelve.

So tomorrow morning I put them in the kitty carrier, throw them in the liz and drive them over to Tigard. They are going to LOVE me for this. I pick them back up later, and then we'll see if they ever speak to me again. Poor little bunnies.

So anyway, I survived last week's branch (and so did that assistant, it should be noted - I never actually YELLED at her once. You know, YELLED. By definition.) and am back in Lincoln Tower for a few weeks, so that is sort of normal. I got a great review today from my boss, so I guess life just keeps going on. I'm sure the three of us will get past tomorrow too.